Bonjour my amigos! This post will definitely be more upbeat than my last ones, not that they were downers, per se, but this one will be a lighter, more fun look at life in Buenos Aires.
So Saturday morning I headed out (which was tough at first cuz I´d been out till 6am the night before) with a Norwegian, a Swede, a Dutchie, and a Swiss to this nice, kinda touristy suburb of BA called Tigre. It´s kind of like Argentina´s version of Venice, what with the water everywhere and needing to travel by boat to reach destinations. At first we were worried we wouldn´t be able to find some nice canoeing or kayaking because it was only private rowing clubs there, but then we took a boat ride down the river and found this nice quiet residential area. This old(ish) woman from this restaurant (where we would later have a late lunch) pointed us down a path that led us to this really wonderfully nice hippie guy and his friends. He rented us two canoes and we paddled up and down this really peaceful river, it was quite lovely (I´ve taken to speaking British phrases while maintaining my Canadian accent, due to the high level of British folk here).
On the train ride back from Tigre, Claude (Swiss) and I began talking to this woman with a bicycle and she invited us to her house for dinner on Monday with her, her friend, and her daughter so that we could practice English and Spanish together. But more on that later...
On Sunday, a bunch of us went to La Bombanera to see the Boca Juniors (the local, ¨working-class¨ team of BA) face Rosalita Central in a fútbol match. You can buy fixed seat tickets, but it´s cheaper (and I would argue a lot more fun) to buy the regular tickets and sit on the bleachers, shoulder-to-shoulder with everyone. Although just before the game began everyone stood up to watch, which I had never seen before. Also they really pack these stands. It´s not like they have a fixed ¨amount¨ of people the stadium fits. I guess they make more money if less fat people show up.
Anyhow, once the game got started, people began going wild. We sat on the ¨mas tranquilo¨ side of the stadium, as a couple of the girls were worried about there being fights breaking out, knifings, or whatever, which actually doesn´t happen at these games... anymore. It´s not like we´re at a Chelsea-ManU game or something. Although we could see the more rowdy side and it looked like a lot of fun, there were people playing music with drums and horns, with more dancing and singing. On our side though it was still really exciting. My English friend Paul was saying how at English football matches teams´ll have maybe 2 songs, and they´re like droning chants. Here, they had probably 7 or 8 proper team songs, with actions and choruses and everything. There was almost constant singing, people shouting advice to the players and cheering them on whenever one of their players made a good play.
This turned out to be a particularly awesome match to go to because Boca scored a goal within the first 8 minutes of the game. They started out dominating, but then let themselves slip in the second half, letting in a weak goal to tie the match up. They started coming alive again, having some great corner kicks and some close scoring chances, but weren´t able to convert. Then with three minutes until stoppage time, the ball was crossed in front of the net, went off one Boca players´ head to a teammate who made a beautiful scissor-kick, the ball went into the net, the goalie never had a chance. BOOM! Everyone went crazy! It was SO fun, SO exciting, SO great to be there! People didn´t stop cheering until 5-10 minutes after the game ended. We had to stay there in the stands because they lock the doors, so they can let people out slowing instead of all at once. But other than that, and the fact that the opposing fans spit on you in the second half if their team is losing (I got a little on my shoulders and a glob on my hat), it was SO COOL! I bought a team shirt for a souvenir from a street guy, which was a ripoff but not expensive when you factor in exchange rates (40 pesos, i.e. 12-13 bucks American). And I really wanted an Argentine soccer jersey to wear at home. I didn´t buy one before the game because all the people who wore jerseys during the game looked like such turistas.
So Monday my friend Claude and I got to hang out with some good ole porteños at their home in Recoleta, which is a nice neighbourhood (I wouldn´t have gone if it was in La Boca or San Telmo or one of the other somewhat-shady barrios). Despite this, they didn´t live in any swanky place - an apartment with a bedroom for the mother, one for her daughter, a small kitchen, and a living room. It was really nice and she made us a delicious Argentine pizza (sort of) dish with cheese and onions, followed by a really nice pot of meat and vegetables, with some ginger cake for dessert. It was all so good, as she had promised. We ended up talking music with her, languages and school with her daughter, I talked Argentine politics with her friend, and we ended up staying for 5 hours, till one in the morning. Claude and I had to get back to la residencia in time to go out to the club downstairs with our housemates.
Today, I got to meet another local as I went with my New Yorkah friend to get a video rental card from her porteño cousin. He was really nice and the three of us hung out briefly at his apartment, I met his dad who asked me what my last name is (which apparently is a common question Argentine people ask foreigners). Turns out they know almost nothing of Canada, they get no news of us which Roberto (the father) said must mean, ¨No news is good news, ¿sí?¨ Not quite. But anyway. They were really nice.
And it´s good to be meeting lots of locals. I still have contacts from my parents and my Spanish teacher that I have to call, but I had been hesitating because I was nervous about contacting people who I had such a vague connection to. But now that these people to whom I have had an even looser connection are being so friendly and wonderful with me, then it shouldn´t be a problem. I will contact them the next chance I get. Although I dunno when that´ll be because tomorrow I have a busy day of going to the Brazilian Consulate to obtain a travel visa, followed by dinner with Claude´s and my new Argentine friend and milonga tango lessons (also with her and Claude). I´m gonna start learnin´ some tango...
As my friend´s cousin said, ¨¿See? We are not all horrible people who steal and rape¨ (which have happened to students here).
See Mom and Dad? Totally safe.
29.10.08
24.10.08
Más Poesía Menos Policía
This is a graffiti message I saw scrawled on a wall opposite of a club I went to Wednesday night, as I was leaving. It basically means ¨More Poetry, Less Policing¨, which I think is an image that really represents the vibe Buenos Aires gives me.
For those of you who don´t know, Argentina is in many ways still reeling from the period of 1976-83 when, under the military government, 30,000 people disappeared (not including the people who were openly wrongfully imprisoned, tortured, and murdered). The walls of Buenos Aires are covered in graffiti, both political and romantic. You might find a ¨JP + MS¨ scrawled next to ¨Peron Lives!¨, a statement that may be in jubilation or in despair. There is a passionate romantic tale underlying the stories of the porteños (people from Buenos Aires); people walk arm-in-arm while making out in the middle of the day, just cuz, instead of walking hand-in-hand and giving pecks just when they say hello or goodbye.
Earlier in the night, when we showed up in our cabs to the club Museum (which was okay but I wasn´t a big fan), there were little kids, probably around the ages of 8 or 9, opening our doors for us saying ¨One dollar. One dollar please.¨ Some people gave them money (e.g. my Swiss friend Claude), some people told them to fuck off (my Dutch friend Leanna), and one person, my British friend Paul, tried to teach them that ¨dollar es americano; es peso en inglés, tambien¨. Since this moment, I´ve noticed I´ve had a quite a few people coming up to me on the street at night, asking for money. One guy kept trying to haggle me for more and I couldn´t remember enough Spanish to comfortably communicate with me and then my Swedish friend Sadaf said if I didn´t wanna pay him any more I didn´t have to and I ended up just going inside, leaving him with a 4-peso donation.
I find this city is a beautiful wonderful place, but it is in a sort of limbo, being torn back and forth between romance and disillusionment. I had a great little conversation with a cab driver who I told I was Canadian. He asked me, ¨Canadá, es mejor de Estados Unidos, sí?¨ to which I replied ¨Errr, ummm, well... sí.¨ He and I then had a fun conversation about fútbol and where he was from and what he thought of Córdoba (cuz I´m going there for a month in three weeks from now). It was really nice conversation, a great connection, and he warned me, in a very friendly manner, about the craziness of the Boca Juniors soccer stadium La Bombonera (which I´m going to this Sunday with some folks). It was one of those instances that I had come to Buenos Aires for, to really see the people for who they are. To see the wonderful warmth that people extend to each other and strangers, especially those who have come to their land to learn their language. But at the same time, if you want to see the real Buenos Aires, you can´t ignore the kids opening your cab door asking for money. You can´t ignore the guy hassling you for pizza money outside your door. You can´t ignore the people in Plaza de Mayo (the city center where the country´s headquarters La Casa Rosada) who sleep on a bed of garbage bags that spill their contents onto their clothes and the street.
I really am loving it here. And I guess I do get a bit of a thrill, in a sociologist sort of way, from seeing these situations firsthand. It´s sad. But there´s also a lot of beauty and excitement coming from people in the same situations as the guy who was hassling me for pizza money. And there´s so much here. It´s a city chock full of experiences and sites and cultures and neighbourhoods.
I look forward to seeing the fútbol match in La Bombonera... apparently my British friends Tom and James got spit on (not on purpose, just that there´s a lot of spitting). It, too, is supposed to capture the passion (certainly) and the disillusionment (perhaps) of the porteños.
For those of you who don´t know, Argentina is in many ways still reeling from the period of 1976-83 when, under the military government, 30,000 people disappeared (not including the people who were openly wrongfully imprisoned, tortured, and murdered). The walls of Buenos Aires are covered in graffiti, both political and romantic. You might find a ¨JP + MS¨ scrawled next to ¨Peron Lives!¨, a statement that may be in jubilation or in despair. There is a passionate romantic tale underlying the stories of the porteños (people from Buenos Aires); people walk arm-in-arm while making out in the middle of the day, just cuz, instead of walking hand-in-hand and giving pecks just when they say hello or goodbye.
Earlier in the night, when we showed up in our cabs to the club Museum (which was okay but I wasn´t a big fan), there were little kids, probably around the ages of 8 or 9, opening our doors for us saying ¨One dollar. One dollar please.¨ Some people gave them money (e.g. my Swiss friend Claude), some people told them to fuck off (my Dutch friend Leanna), and one person, my British friend Paul, tried to teach them that ¨dollar es americano; es peso en inglés, tambien¨. Since this moment, I´ve noticed I´ve had a quite a few people coming up to me on the street at night, asking for money. One guy kept trying to haggle me for more and I couldn´t remember enough Spanish to comfortably communicate with me and then my Swedish friend Sadaf said if I didn´t wanna pay him any more I didn´t have to and I ended up just going inside, leaving him with a 4-peso donation.
I find this city is a beautiful wonderful place, but it is in a sort of limbo, being torn back and forth between romance and disillusionment. I had a great little conversation with a cab driver who I told I was Canadian. He asked me, ¨Canadá, es mejor de Estados Unidos, sí?¨ to which I replied ¨Errr, ummm, well... sí.¨ He and I then had a fun conversation about fútbol and where he was from and what he thought of Córdoba (cuz I´m going there for a month in three weeks from now). It was really nice conversation, a great connection, and he warned me, in a very friendly manner, about the craziness of the Boca Juniors soccer stadium La Bombonera (which I´m going to this Sunday with some folks). It was one of those instances that I had come to Buenos Aires for, to really see the people for who they are. To see the wonderful warmth that people extend to each other and strangers, especially those who have come to their land to learn their language. But at the same time, if you want to see the real Buenos Aires, you can´t ignore the kids opening your cab door asking for money. You can´t ignore the guy hassling you for pizza money outside your door. You can´t ignore the people in Plaza de Mayo (the city center where the country´s headquarters La Casa Rosada) who sleep on a bed of garbage bags that spill their contents onto their clothes and the street.
I really am loving it here. And I guess I do get a bit of a thrill, in a sociologist sort of way, from seeing these situations firsthand. It´s sad. But there´s also a lot of beauty and excitement coming from people in the same situations as the guy who was hassling me for pizza money. And there´s so much here. It´s a city chock full of experiences and sites and cultures and neighbourhoods.
I look forward to seeing the fútbol match in La Bombonera... apparently my British friends Tom and James got spit on (not on purpose, just that there´s a lot of spitting). It, too, is supposed to capture the passion (certainly) and the disillusionment (perhaps) of the porteños.
19.10.08
Celebrating Alive
Last night was awesome. So was today. By which I mean yesterday. And by last night I mean two nights ago. The computer page magically disappeared while I was in the middle of writing and I got fed up. So now I'm finishing my post today.
So I thought people went out late in parts of Europe. And maybe they go out this late there too, but last night we went out to a club in the nice (read: snootier) club district. This girl from New York has a cousin or someone who works in this club district so we had some of our names on a list and were able to get in for 20 pesos instead of 50 (20 pesos = about $7/7.50). But of course ladies in free.
So anywho, we leave our place at 3. And we dance, the others drink, and it was so much fun. There were older people there and started getting more packed around 4. It was just interesting to see how excited and energetic everyone was. The old men and women dancing up a storm together and making out on the dance floor and the younger people were of course doing the same. I loved it. And my new friends from Switzerland, Germany, England, and Holland were having a great time too. A few of us went home at 5 cuz we were getting tired and a couple of us had just gotten into town (e.g. me), and the others stayed out for another half hour or so.
And then I went home to my quaint little room. Where I could hear the club next door pounding music till 6. And then heard some girls getting in at 7 and this morning I talked to this guy Per from Denmark who said he went to a house party and then didn´t get home till 9. In Canada the bars and clubs close at... 2.
So today, by which I mean Sunday, we went to see River Plate vs. Boca Juniors, which is a ¨superclasico¨ match! Boca is the more working-class team, and doing better this year, and River is the more upper-class team, but they´re at the bottom this season. We cheered for Boca and they won 1-0, which was SWEEET cuz everyone in the bar we were at in the San Telmo barrio (neighbourhood) was cheering for Boca. When the game ended this guy in front of us picked up his son, shouted "Boca!" and kissed him on the forehead. Cuuute. And the bartender gave us a free pitcher of brew cuz he loved us so much. And this guy Pablo did an article on us, as foreigners who follow River vs. Boca. It mentioned, and I quote, "Two Germans, two Dutch girls and a Canadian." ...So I'm famous in this country now...
After the game and another hour or so of drinking and eating tapas, we went out into the street, there was a market going on, and went to watch some tango. This guy Tom (British) and girl Leona (Dutch; there are a LOT of Dutch folk) started doing some drunken tango and were eventually politely asked to leave. So then we went down this other "calle" (street) where there was a big dancing party in the street. I dunno why. They weren't waving the colours of Boca, so for all I know they were just moving down the street shakin' their hips for the sake of it. But everyone of all ages were into it - there was a father this his one-year-old, some young kids, a lot who were "young adults" like me, middle-aged folk, and oldies too. A nice panorama of excited, vibrant people.
I think people in Argentina are so much more passionate about simple things in life. In the club, the emphasis, at least the vibe I got, was on dancing and partying with friends, not drinking and picking up. In the bar, people did not have to pay to watch the game. In the street, people did not have to pay to dance to tango music or the drums in the street. They don't need money to express their passion for life! Which is good because people don't really have much to begin with. 50 pesos might not be much for me for dinner, but it's a big sum for "los argentinos". I think it's something that's so cool. I wish people would break into dance down Old Carriage Road.
Well... maybe when I get back. A la proxima!
P.S. Last night (Sunday night) I was gonna go to bed early, and then my German friend Andreas convinced me to come out to a karaoke bar with him and Paul, an English guy. We met these girls Sadaf (Iranian from Sweden) and Hadal (from Tel Aviv). Turned out it was a flamboyant gay bar; it was a lot of fun. And Andreas and I had been so stoked on doing karaoke so we sang My Way by Frank Sinatra. Muy bien! I think some guys were winking at us and blowing us kisses... that's what the hostess/host was saying. See what I'm saying? Passionate!
18.10.08
Landed
So my parents said goodbye to me at the airport just before I went through customs... and then all of a sudden I felt like I was gonna puke. Crazy. It just came on so suddenly: what if my luggage gets lost, what if I get robbed the moment I arrive in Argentina, what if I don´t like it, what if I can´t handle it. All the paranoias that people had put into me started coming up. Should I trust the person exchanging my money for Argentine pesos? Why does she keep saying ¨One for me, one for you¨ when she counts out my money?
So on the flight I was a bit scared. But more calm. And I slept when I could. Supper was served at 1 in the morning... followed by two more meals on that flight, plus another meal on my connecting flight. Or maybe that´s one more meal than I had. I dunno it´s hard to say. Yeccch. Gross food.
The moment I started to calm down was this morning when the plane was starting to land in Santiago de Chile. It was a clear sky and beside me were the incredible Andes mountains. They had no snow or trees on them, just some shrubs, it looked like I could just run straight up them. So beautiful and so calming... then I quickly got on my transfer flight to Buenos Aires.
Outside of the Buenos Aires Airport, where 30 or so left-wing Peronists officially (and many more unofficially) were killed by right-wing Peronists upon the return of Juan Peron (Evita´s hubby) from his 12-year exile, it smelt of pina coladas. Fresh pina coladas. Mmmm, nice. I wanted to talk about the city with my driver but I´m pretty sure he didn´t speak English. So I said what little I knew and he drove me to my residence where the landlady, Gladys, was doing the opposite of waiting for me.
My driver called the number on my contact sheet and I spoke to a woman from the school who said she´d contact Gladys and the moment I stumbled this out of my mouth to my driver, he said ¨Bueno¨ and left, giving me an encouraging honk as he drove by, with me standing in front of the gates. Luckily, two girls from the school were just coming back from shopping a couple minutes later and let me in. And fairly soon after Gladys arrived, apologized that she thought I was coming in tomorrow, as most students do, and showed me around. She´s very nice and speaks a helpful slow Spanish (but almost no English).
After talking to some of the people here, I kinda felt like a sissy. I mean, I feel pretty adventurous for coming out here, but some of the people are staying way longer and doing so much more. Granted, they´ve been here a while, so they´re accustomed to it. The two girls who let me in are from Paris and southern Holland, there´s a girl from Norway, a girl from Tel Aviv, a girl from Ontario, California who now lives in Orange County (but does not watch The OC), a girl from Norway, one other girl who I forget where she´s from, and a guy from Sao Paulo, Brazil who has been here for six months and has an Argentine boyfriend here. Who made me some killer maté. I´m looking forward to drinking that drink. All the time. And hopefully I´ll be able to squeak along without drinking alcohol. And by ¨squeak along¨ I mean be able to hang out with people and meet new other people. I don´t think it´ll be a problem. Maybe I can pass it off as a Canadian thing...
So anywho, that about does it for now. I´ll have more posts when I actually do things in the city. I think I´m going to get some Chinese take-out with a bunch of people tonight. It´s this girl Fleur´s last night here (she´s the one from Holland) before she goes off to Guatemala for six weeks. Everyone´s speaking English here so I´m able to communicate with people fine, except for Pedro (from Sao Paulo)´s boyfriend who only speaks Spanish, but Pedro was acting as interpreter for any words I didn´t understand or can´t convey. So yeah... here I am.
Should be fun. :)
So on the flight I was a bit scared. But more calm. And I slept when I could. Supper was served at 1 in the morning... followed by two more meals on that flight, plus another meal on my connecting flight. Or maybe that´s one more meal than I had. I dunno it´s hard to say. Yeccch. Gross food.
The moment I started to calm down was this morning when the plane was starting to land in Santiago de Chile. It was a clear sky and beside me were the incredible Andes mountains. They had no snow or trees on them, just some shrubs, it looked like I could just run straight up them. So beautiful and so calming... then I quickly got on my transfer flight to Buenos Aires.
Outside of the Buenos Aires Airport, where 30 or so left-wing Peronists officially (and many more unofficially) were killed by right-wing Peronists upon the return of Juan Peron (Evita´s hubby) from his 12-year exile, it smelt of pina coladas. Fresh pina coladas. Mmmm, nice. I wanted to talk about the city with my driver but I´m pretty sure he didn´t speak English. So I said what little I knew and he drove me to my residence where the landlady, Gladys, was doing the opposite of waiting for me.
My driver called the number on my contact sheet and I spoke to a woman from the school who said she´d contact Gladys and the moment I stumbled this out of my mouth to my driver, he said ¨Bueno¨ and left, giving me an encouraging honk as he drove by, with me standing in front of the gates. Luckily, two girls from the school were just coming back from shopping a couple minutes later and let me in. And fairly soon after Gladys arrived, apologized that she thought I was coming in tomorrow, as most students do, and showed me around. She´s very nice and speaks a helpful slow Spanish (but almost no English).
After talking to some of the people here, I kinda felt like a sissy. I mean, I feel pretty adventurous for coming out here, but some of the people are staying way longer and doing so much more. Granted, they´ve been here a while, so they´re accustomed to it. The two girls who let me in are from Paris and southern Holland, there´s a girl from Norway, a girl from Tel Aviv, a girl from Ontario, California who now lives in Orange County (but does not watch The OC), a girl from Norway, one other girl who I forget where she´s from, and a guy from Sao Paulo, Brazil who has been here for six months and has an Argentine boyfriend here. Who made me some killer maté. I´m looking forward to drinking that drink. All the time. And hopefully I´ll be able to squeak along without drinking alcohol. And by ¨squeak along¨ I mean be able to hang out with people and meet new other people. I don´t think it´ll be a problem. Maybe I can pass it off as a Canadian thing...
So anywho, that about does it for now. I´ll have more posts when I actually do things in the city. I think I´m going to get some Chinese take-out with a bunch of people tonight. It´s this girl Fleur´s last night here (she´s the one from Holland) before she goes off to Guatemala for six weeks. Everyone´s speaking English here so I´m able to communicate with people fine, except for Pedro (from Sao Paulo)´s boyfriend who only speaks Spanish, but Pedro was acting as interpreter for any words I didn´t understand or can´t convey. So yeah... here I am.
Should be fun. :)
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